Thursday, July 23, 2015

[Lapeer SGA. Late May 2015]Two Juncos and two Vireos. Four in all. A number whose significance, as the reader will soon learn, surpasses mere fascination with trivia -- representing as it does the sum of all songbird species in the US named on account of their eyes. The purpose of this post, then, modest though in ambition -- is to profile a full 25% of these songbird species! -- namely, the Red-eyed Vireo; plus, a number of other delightful songbirds recently observed at Lapeer State Game Area, such as:

American Redstart

Eastern Towhee

Chestnut-sided Warbler

Blue-winged Warbler

We start with the Red-eyed Vireo:

As seen from the two photographs above, the red-color of the eye of this Vireo is not readily apparent from afar. What is apparent, however, is the grey crown, olive back, dark eyeline, and white undersides.However, a closer approach shows the red-eye clearly:

This is our most widespread vireo and its song -- a series of Robin-like notes rendered as if in haste -- alternatively ascending and descending in quick succession; sounding as it the Vireo were engaged in Q&A (question-and-answer) with itself!

Disambiguation with our other vireo species is straightforward with all except perhaps the Black-whiskered Vireo. But, the latter is highly range-restricted to South Florida and will show, of course, two black throat-stripes or whiskers.The American Redstart, on the other hand, offers no scope for misidentification even to the most callously negligent of observers. Especially, when dealing with a male in dazzling breeding plumage:

This warbler was spied in the vicinity of an Eastern Towhee. This plump and colorful sparrow manages to combine visual elements from both the Redstart and the Vireo -- showing the red-eye from the Vireo while possessing a color combination of black and reddish-brown that is reminiscent of the Redstart:

Also observed was a Chestnut-sided Warbler -- briefly visible with its striking yellow crown, black facial markings and white cheeks -- somewhat underrated as warblers go, the Chestnut-sided was sighted only once by John J Audubon in his travels. A fact that perhaps implies it was once much rarer that it is today.

The most numerous warbler of the area at this time of year, excepting the Yellow, is the Blue-winged Warbler -- with observers reporting up to 10 sightings a day in e-bird:

This distinctive yellow warbler with pale grey wings, white wing-bars and a prominent black eye-line is always heard before it is seen -- it's insect-like buzzy song is unmistakeable.

In the pristine forests of Northern Michigan, having left the "urban jungle" of concrete monstrosities behind, oases of nature may still be found -- harboring signature species of the American woods such as the vireos and warblers profiled here.

Sunday, July 19, 2015

[Port Huron SGA. May/June 2015]There are thousands and thousands of avian species in South and Central America and the Caribbean. Indeed, the Neotropics is the richest area in the world when it comes to species diversity -- holding a whopping 3,600 taxa. This exceptional abundance is a result of favorable habitat, topography and climatic conditions that allow these species to thrive in their natural environment year round. However, there is but a tiny fraction of the 3,600 that are not content to stay put -- 160 Neotropical migrant species of the 3,600 -- travel North to the US and Canada every year in the Spring and fly back every Fall.But what possessed this small fraction of the 3,600 to migrate to North America? Why only 160 and not more? What prompted the first species to migrate? Has the number of migrating species changed over time? Migration to our continent is hazardous -- involving long distances, overflight over vast bodies of water and the threat of predators. So, clearly, the rewards must outweigh the risks to make the journey worthwhile. Indeed the 160-odd species of neotropical migrants that annually augment the other 700 species found in the US are rewarded on arrival with the prospect of fulfilling their primordial urges -- for suitable nesting habitat, favorable climate, lots of food and, equally important, less competition and hence greater availability of mates. And, despite our best efforts to derail the wonder of avian migration -- through wind turbines, concrete structures, light pollution, habitat destruction and degradation, zoological pollution, etc. -- the spectacle lives on as it has over millennia. A priceless living feature of our natural landscape no less than the grandeur of the Rockies or the majesty of the Great Lakes. Therefore, to live in North America and be oblivious to this miracle of migration, surely, would qualify as nothing less than a tragedy of missed opportunity. Yet for those who are alive to this living "feathered current" as it flows over our forests, migration offers an unparalleled opening to connect with the rhythms of life as seen through the prism of avian natural history. And, this post aims to offer just that -- to offer a window to the phenomenon of Neotropical migration by bearing photographic witness to iconic species of the Summer forests of North America -- brilliant songbirds such as Hooded Warbler, Veery and Scarlet Tanager.We start with the Hooded Warbler:

The face of the Hooded Warbler has been described as the "negative" or inverse of the Common Yellowthroat -- yellow surrounded by black vs. black surrounded by yellow.

This striking warbler winters in the Caribbean and Central America and it's Summer range barely stretches into Michigan and Southern Ontario.

Unlike the Hooded Warbler, the Spring migration for the Veery starts much farther South -- from Brazil.

This beautiful cinnamon thrush is named after the "veer" notes of its song which livens up any excursion through the Summer woods.Another cheerful song is heard from the canopy -- sounding like an American Robin "on steroids", the Scarlet Tanager is a real dazzler:

Finally, at this time of year, warblers abound in appropriate habitat and also observed were:

American Redstart:

Chestnut-sided Warbler:

A gorgeous Mourning Warbler:

and Blue-winged Warbler:

Of the many gifts we take for granted in the New World, none quite surpasses the beautiful-sounding, feathered jewels of the woods -- our Summer visitors from the Neotropics.

Saturday, July 11, 2015

[Port Huron SGA. May/June 2015]One would surmise that any bird whose name bears the epithet "Common" would, if true to its import, offer easy sightings. However, observation of this warbler does not come unchallenged -- the Common Yellowthroat is a notorious skulker and is rarely seen out in the open -- a trait of shyness it shares with other members of the genus Geothlypis such as Mourning, MacGillivray's, and Kentucky Warbler.

Uncommonly beautiful with its broad, black mask, yellow throat and white "headband", the only thing "Common" about this warbler is its frequently heard (but harsh) "tsk" call; and, its enormously widespread distribution across the US -- this distinctive warbler is found as a breeder or over-winterer in almost all our states.

With migration now over, the enterprising birder's attention shifts to areas that offer suitable breeding habitat for our neotropical songsters. And, Port Huron SGA is a prime location for finding some choice warbler species in Summer. Besides the Common Yellowthroat seen at Abbotsford Rd, the distinctive sound of a song that rings "Zoo Zee Zoo Zoo Zee" betrays the presence of a Black-throated Green Warbler:

This is one of the most common warblers found in migration in hotspots such as Magee Marsh. While common, this warbler is one that always delights with its bold black throat that extends to its flanks; the white belly, yellow face and olive back and eye-line completing the visual diagnostics.

Nearby, the brilliant blue of an Indigo Bunting offers a study in contrasts to the warblers:

The Indigo's bill is much stouter -- reflective of the prominent role of seeds in their diet -- compare to the Warbler's thin, sharp bill. The Indigo is also larger and its song more finch-like.

In song, however, both the warblers and the buntings are put to shame by the matchless, haunting melody of the Wood Thrush:

The Wood Thrush is able to sing two notes at once creating a song of flute-like resonance that was described by the Poet-Philosopher Henry David Thoreau as one of the most beautiful birdsongs in North America.Sadly, numbers of this bright thrush have fallen 50% since the 1960's although it can still commonly be heard in appropriate habitat.

Wednesday, July 1, 2015

[Port Huron SGA. May/June 2015]In the imaginary scenario depicted in the recent Oscar-winning movie "Interstellar", a group of explorers try to find another planet suited for human sustenance as the Earth's environment degrades beyond inhabitability.

On this new home, one oft muses how the Earth's "old guard" would describe the blue planet's many wonders to the new generation -- those who have never been witness to the azure blue of the sky, the gold expanse of the deserts, the sapphire depths of the seas or the emerald swaths of forest.

A picture, it is said, is worth a thousand words. And, indeed, perhaps the best way to explain the blueness of sky is through this:

For nothing conjures up the shimmering blue of the sky than the incomparable Cerulean Warbler -- a songbird whose very name takes after the sky:

A favorite of birding aesthetes, the Cerulean Warbler is a scarce breeder in Michigan. This resplendent male was sighted at Shoefelt Rd, Port Huron SGA. Coincidentally, the Cerulean was first sighted on the same tree as this, our most colorful vireo:

Unlike the Cerulean Warbler which is classified as "Vulnerable", the Yellow-throated Vireo is a widespread summer breeder in the Eastern US and is listed at "Least Concern".It is through iconic species such as the Cerulean Warbler and the Yellow-throated Vireo that we are reminded that it is in Nature that we see most clearly, for those who care to look, Earth's wonders manifested in their fullest and most vibrant forms.

About Me

The US, perhaps more than any other country, has witnessed a colossal loss of its native wildlife since the arrival of European colonists in the 16th century. When first discovered, this "Garden of Eden" was home to a rich and varied birdlife that existed in such staggering numbers that they literally darkened the skies and carpeted the land in their great multitudes.
Unfortunately, this great bounty of wildlife was subjected to ruthless exploitation at a horrific scale: birds were killed for food, for "sport", for trade, for fashion, for science, for fun. And, this insatiable lust for slaughter, coupled subsequently by other factors, such as habitat degradation, pollution, the introduction of invasive species and an explosion in the number of captive animals (such as domestic livestock and pets) have all collectively led to the extirpation, extinction, and annihilation of untold native species across the continent.
So why photograph birdlife? Only one reason: to document their intrinsic brilliance in an effort to promote their conservation. And, in so doing, to establish a non-exploitative relationship with our avifauna that furthers our understanding of their natural history.

What is Plume Hunting?

Plume hunting was big business in the late 1800's. Unfortunately, the dark side to the beauty of plumes led to the slaughter of millions of birds so women could wear fancy hats (Read about Plume Hunting).

Thankfully, in this age of digitization, we can capture most anything we want -- books, music, video, etc. -- digitally. And, with the advent of digital photography at the turn of the millennium, we can once again hunt for plumes -- but digitally; with none of the accompanying destruction. This blog is dedicated to capturing the beauty of nature reflected through the incredible diversity of our avifauna.

Reproduced below is ecofeminist Celia Thaxter's, "Woman’s Heartlessness" (Boston 1886; reproduced from Google Books) which was published at the time when plumes were worth their weight in gold and many species of birds were fast headed toward extinction:

WOMAN’S HEARTLESSNESSBy Celia Laighton Thaxter

When the Audubon Society was first organized, it seemed a comparatively simple thing to awaken in the minds of all bird-wearing women a sense of what their “decoration” involved. We flattered ourselves that the tender and compassionate heart of woman would at once respond to the appeal for mercy, but after many months of effort we are obliged to acknowledge ourselves mistaken in our estimate of that universal compassion, that tender heart in which we believed. Not among the ignorant and uncultivated so much as the educated and enlightened do we find the indifference and hardness that baffles and perplexes us. Not always, heaven be praised! But too often,--I think I may say in two-thirds of the cases to which we appeal. One lady said to me, “I think there is a great deal of sentiment wasted on the birds. There are so many of them, they will never be missed any more than mosquitoes. I shall put birds on my new bonnet.” This was a fond and devoted mother, a cultivated and accomplished woman. It seemed a desperate case, indeed, but still I strove with it. “Why do you give yourself so much trouble?” she asked. “They will soon go out of fashion, and there will be an end of it.” That may be,” I replied, “but fashion next year may order them back again, and how many women will have human feeling enough to refuse to wear them? It was merely waste of breath, however, and she went her way, a charnel-house of beaks and claws and bones and feathers and glass eyes upon her fatuous head.

Another, mockingly, says, “Why don’t you try to save the little fishes in the sea?” and continues to walk the world with dozens of warblers’ wings making her headgear hideous. Not one in fifty is found willing to remove at once the birds from her head, even if, languidly, she does acquiesce in the assertion that it is a cruel sin against nature to destroy them. “When these are worn out I am willing to promise not to buy any more,” is what we hear, and we are thankful, indeed, for even so much grace; but alas! birds never “wear out.” And as their wearer does not carry a placard stating their history, that they were bought last year, or perhaps given to her, and she does not intend to buy any more, her economy goes on setting the bad example, or it may be her indolence is to blame, one is as fatal as the other. Occasionally, but too rarely, we meet with a fine spirit, the fire of whose generous impulse consumes at once all selfish considerations, who recognizes the importance of her own responsibility, and whose action is swift as her thought to pluck our the murderous sign, and go forth free of its dishonor. And how refreshing is the sight of the birdless bonnet! The face beneath, no matter how plain it may be, seems to possess a gentle charm. She might have had birds, this woman, for they are cheap and plentiful enough, heaven knows! But she has them not, therefore she must wear within things infinitely precious,--namely, good sense, good taste, good feeling. Heaven bless every woman who dares turn her back on Fashion and go about thus beautifully adorned!

In one of the most widely circulated newspapers the fashionable news from Paris begins: “Birds are worn more than ever.” Birds “are worn!” Pitiful phrase! Sentence of deadly significance! “Birds are worn,”—as if that were final, as if all women must follow one another like a flock of sheep over a wall, and forget reason, forget the human heart within, forget everything but the empty pride of being “in the fashion.” Ah me, my fire-flecked oriole, watching your airy cradle from the friendly swinging elm bough, go get yourself an inky coat. Your beauty makes you but a target for the accursed gun that shatters your lovely life, quenches your delicious voice, destroys your love, your bliss, your dutiful cares, your whole beautiful being, that your dead body may disfigure some woman’s head and call all eyes to gaze at her! But no,--that will not save you. Blackbirds are not safe, they “are worn.” Carrion crows “are worn,” unsavory scavengers though they be. No matter on what they may have fed,--they “are worn.” Soar, swift sea-swallow,--I would it could be millions of miles away from the haunts of men; to the uttermost parts of the earth and the ocean carry your grace, your slender loveliness of shape, your matchless delicacy of tint and tone of color, soft, wondrous like gray cloud and silvery snow,--fly! dear and beautiful creature; seek the centre of the storm, the heart of the Arctic cold, the winter blast, they are not so unkind as—woman’s vanity. Do I not see you every day, your mocking semblance writhing as if in agony round female heads,--still and stark, sharp wings and tail pointing in stiff distress to heaven, your dried and ghastly head and beak dragged down to point to the face below, as if saying, “She did it.” The albatross of the Ancient Mariner is not more dreadful. Yesterday I saw three of you on one hat! Three terns at once, a horrible confusion of death and dismay.

Does any woman imagine these withered corpses (cured with arsenic) which she loves to carry about, are beautiful? Not so; the birds lost their beauty with their lives. Today I saw a mat woven of warblers' heads, spiked all over its surface with sharp beaks, set up on a bonnet and borne aloft by its possessor in pride! Twenty murders on one! and the face beneath bland and satisfied, for are not "Birds to be worn more than ever?" Flit, sandpiper, from the sea's margin to some loneliness remote and safe from the noble race of man! No longer in the soft May twilight call from cove to cove along the shore in notes that seem to breathe the very spirit of tender joy, of happy love, of sweet content; tones that mingle so divinely with the warm waves' murmur, with the south wind's balm, and sound in music through the dusk, long after the last crimson flash of sunset has faded from the sky year after year you come back to make your nest in the place you know and love, but you shall not live your humble, blissful, dutiful life, you shall not guard your treasured home, nor rejoice when your little ones break the silence with their first cry to you for food. You shall not shelter and protect and care for them with the same divine instinct you share with human mothers. No, some woman wants your corpse to carry on her head. You shall die that vanity, that "Fashion" may live.

I fear we no longer deserve these golden gifts of God. I would the birds could all emigrate to some friendlier planet peopled by a nobler race than ours, where they might live their sweet lives unmolested, and be treated with the respect, the consideration, and the grateful love which are their due. For we have almost forfeited our right to the blessing of their presence.

But still we venture to hope for a better future, still the Audubon and other societies work with heart and soul, to protect and save them, and we trust yet to see the day when women, one and all, will look upon the wearing of birds in its proper light,--namely, as a sign of heartlessness and a mark of ignominy and reproach.